


Opportunity

by hummerhouse



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003)
Genre: Action, Danger, Desire, First Kiss, M/M, Romance, Secrets, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 21:48:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9847100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummerhouse/pseuds/hummerhouse
Summary: Disclaimer: The TMNT are not mine. No money being made.Word Count: 4,617 one shot  2k3Rated: RPairing: Leatherhead/DonatelloSummary: Leatherhead has always had a secret desire for Donatello but has never had the chance to pursue it - until now.An OTP gift fic for my friend MomoRawrr. Happy Birthday!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LineCrosser](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LineCrosser/gifts).



            Whenever Leatherhead spent time with the turtle brothers, he found himself more and more drawn to Donatello.

            All four of the turtles and their father enjoyed Leatherhead’s company; they had told him so and he believed it.  Master Splinter was a very wise elder and Leatherhead found peace in the tranquility of their time together.  The large crocodile often sparred with Leonardo or wrestled with Raphael, activities that entertained all of them.  With Michelangelo, Leatherhead discovered the simple joys in life, such as watching movies, reading comics, or learning what tasted best on a pizza.

            But it was Donatello’s gentle personality that was most aligned with what Leatherhead had come to cherish in a companion.  The young genius was very much like Leatherhead’s beloved family of Utroms; he was kind, considerate, extremely intelligent, and highly thoughtful.  Donatello was evolved far beyond his years.

            Leatherhead had never given much thought to acquiring a mate.  After all, he was the only one of his kind and his experiences at the hands of Agent Bishop had left lasting scars upon his psyche.  Though his friends had convinced him that he was not a monster, Leatherhead wasn’t truly positive that given a set of circumstances, he would not succumb to a fit of rage.

            However, there was one caveat to Leatherhead’s beliefs about his violent temper.  He knew with absolute certainty that he would never become that angry with Donatello.  In fact, the soft touch of Donatello’s hand had the immediate effect of washing away the madness Leatherhead sometimes felt.  He knew this to be true because it had happened once or twice, even after the rage had overcome Leatherhead.  It disappeared within seconds of Donatello’s gentle caress and soothing words.

            Leatherhead could not imagine his life without Donatello.  There had been a time when building a Transmat so that he could return to his beloved Utroms had been the most important thing to Leatherhead.  Now the device sat half-finished in his home and Leatherhead gave it very little of his attention.  The only time he worked on it was when Donatello offered to help.

            Unable to admit to the turtle that he had no desire to leave him, Leatherhead labored on the Transmat alongside his friend.  At least it was something they could do together, something that they could do _alone_.

            Being alone with Donatello was difficult.  The turtles tended to do everything together and it was hard to separate Donatello from the others.  Leatherhead enjoyed nothing more than the sound of Donatello’s voice and brilliance of his conversation, both of which were more enticing without interruptions.

            Very often, when Donatello had spent time with him and then returned to his lair, Leatherhead would lay awake pining for his young friend.  His bed, a pile of mattresses and blankets, seemed even lonelier than normal.  Though he tried to avoid it, Leatherhead’s imagination would nonetheless play out scenes of Donatello sharing that bed with him.

            Leatherhead’s body reacted to his fantasies in a very predictable manner.  In such a state the aroused croc was unable to sleep until he took himself in hand and relieved the tension.  As he peaked, Leatherhead would call out Donatello’s name and then fall back against his blankets, trembling as visions of the young turtle followed him into sated unconsciousness.

            His inability to control his desires left Leatherhead feeling ashamed.  Even though he hid his fascination with Donatello well, Leatherhead still felt humiliated at having such unclean thoughts about his friend.  Donatello was too good for him, too pure, and vastly undeserving of Leatherhead’s twisted reveries.

            Still, those thoughts lingered until Leatherhead began to wonder if it wouldn’t be best for all of them if he were to completely avoid any contact with the turtles.  He could change the combination on the entry to his home so that they could not visit him unannounced, and if they phoned, he could make up some excuse that would keep him from having to see them.

            Though he toyed with that idea, Leatherhead knew it wouldn’t work.  His friends would worry that something was terribly wrong and because they were tenacious, they would find a way to see him.  That would lead to questions he did not want to answer.

            So he continued to spend time in their company and to relish those moments when he was alone with Donatello.  That would have to be enough for him, despite what Leatherhead actually longed for.

            Until a day came that changed the tide of his relationship with Donatello.

            The young genius had learned of plans made by the Foot clan’s new leader Karai.  With the assistance of Dr. Chaplin and stolen alien tech, Karai was attempting to create a ship that would carry her to the ice asteroid where Ch’rell aka the Shredder had been banished.

            Because the Shredder was their most hated enemy and a being who had already cut a deadly swath across the galaxy, the turtles could not allow Karai to complete her task.  Plans were made to destroy Karai’s star ship and all of the alien tech which she had stored inside the Foot compound.

            Leatherhead had been asked to assist in this mission and had readily agreed.  They would go without him anyway, and he felt compelled to remain near Donatello to protect him.

            They divided their forces in order to attack from several directions at once.  Leonardo, Raphael, and Master Splinter would enter through the main throne room, taking the route that Leonardo had once used in order to confront Karai.  There they planned to challenge the Foot clan leader and hopefully draw forces to her as a way to distract the Foot.

            Michelangelo, Casey Jones, and April O’Neil would gain entry to the mansion which was near the Foot headquarters tower.  Donatello had ascertained that all of the alien tech that Karai had acquired was stored in labs within the mansion.  April would use her technical skills to get them into those labs and then with Michelangelo and Casey’s assistance, would set explosive charges that would completely destroy everything inside.

            Donatello had discovered that Karai had repaired the transport tunnel beneath the mansion and the launch silo which housed her new star ship.  Together, he and Leatherhead would infiltrate that underground system as they had done once before and destroy both it, the launch silo, and the star ship.

            Before they left the lair, April assisted Donatello in planting a malicious software subroutine into the communications network used by the Foot clan.  At a set time, the malware would disrupt the communications systems within both the Foot headquarters tower and the mansion.  This was to occur within moments of Leo’s confrontation with Karai, giving her time to call for backup.  After that, all systems would be down so that no one would be wise to the two other coordinated attacks taking place.

            The entire plan called for split second timing.  Because it wasn’t possible to foresee every possible scenario, the turtle clan would stay in touch with each other using their shell cells.

            When it was time, the group split into teams and made their way to their various positions.  Leatherhead had no difficulty prying open a point of entry for himself and Donatello to use to drop into the underground railway.  Side by side, they traversed the tunnel and Leatherhead experienced a feeling of de-ja-vu at having done the same thing once before.

            “Team two checking in,” Don reported.  “We have gained entry and are proceeding as planned.”

            _“Roger that,”_ Leo said. _“Team three, sit rep?”_

            _“We’re inside the mansion,”_ April responded.  _“We came in through the food delivery entrance, so no one has been alerted to our presence. Yet.”_

            _“In exactly eight minutes we’ll make our move,”_ Leo said.  _“In thirteen minutes begin your assault. Team one out.”_

            Don muted his microphone and looked up at Leatherhead.  “According to the diagram I found, there are only two points of egress from the mansion into this tunnel.”  He dug into his duffel bag and produced a small device, which he handed to the crocodile.  “We’ll split up here and each plant one of these shaped charges against the entryways.  If I’ve calculated the explosive correctly, it will seal each entry so that none of Karai’s ninjas can get in here behind us.”

            “We will meet again at a point just outside of the launch silo,” Leatherhead replied, verbally reviewing the plans they’d already gone over several times.

            “We should both be there in six to seven minutes,” Don said.  “At thirteen minutes the charges will go off, sealing those doors and then we’ll set additional charges inside the launch silo.  After that we’ll run like crazy.”

            “An excellent plan my friend,” Leatherhead rumbled.

            With a nod, Donatello set off in the direction of the entryway he was to sabotage.  Leatherhead watched him for a moment, feeling a faint dread at being separated from Donatello, and then turned towards the entry that had been assigned to him.

            After planting the small explosive charge, Leatherhead jogged towards the launch silo.  Knowing that Donatello had to come farther to reach their meeting place didn’t dispel the anxiety that Leatherhead felt at not seeing the young turtle waiting for him.  He had only been there for less than a minute when Donatello came around a bend in the tunnel and joined him.

            “In a little under two minutes Leo, Raph, and Master Splinter are going to begin their attack,” Don said, coming to stand in front of Leatherhead.  “I hope this goes well.”

            Leatherhead could see that Donatello was nervous.  “The strategy is sound and so too is the planning,” he said in an effort to reassure his friend.

            Don chuckled.  “Raph would say that the one variable we can’t plan for is turtle luck.  It’ll either be on our side or running true to form.”

            “Let us hope then that today it smiles upon us,” Leatherhead said.

            “I’m happy you’re here to help me,” Don said.  “I feel much better knowing I have you at my back.”

            The words warmed Leatherhead to his core.  “I can think of no place that I would rather be than assisting you, Donatello.”

            “We make a good team, don’t we LH?” Don asked.  “The best team.”

            Donatello had probably not meant that in the way Leatherhead chose to interpret his words.  To the smitten mutant crocodile, what Donatello had said was an affirmation of all of Leatherhead’s daydreams.  It almost seemed as if the young turtle was expressing a desire to form a permanent bond with Leatherhead and to renounce the team to which he was currently affiliated.

            “It is an honor to be at your side,” Leatherhead said.  “It is my wish that you never go into battle without me.”

            Frowning slightly, Don said, “You know that you’re very much like family to me, don’t you LH?  But I know you have another family to whom you want to return some day.  I’d hate for you to feel so obligated to us that you don’t fulfill your own greatest wish.”

            Leatherhead wanted desperately to tell Donatello that his greatest wish was to have the turtle be his mate, but just as that moment the sound of dual explosions reached them.

            “Show time,” Don said excitedly, turning to the silo door.

            Ripping the door from its hinges, Leatherhead tossed it aside and led the way into the launch silo.  In front of them stood the massive star ship, almost an exact duplicate of the one that Shredder himself had used to escape Earth and which the turtles had destroyed.

            Donatello dropped his duffel bag to the ground and pulled out a pair of identical explosive charges.  Tossing one to Leatherhead, he said, “I’ll place mine on the liquid oxygen tank over here to my left.  The hydrogen tanks are on your right.  The timers are set for three minutes.  We’ll initiate the countdown simultaneously and then run for it.  Most of the blast should be propelled upwards and it’ll destroy the star ship.”

            “We will have to be swift my friend,” Leatherhead said as he approached the hydrogen tank and attached the explosive to it.

            “Ready LH?” Don asked, looking over his shoulder at the croc who was on the opposite side of the silo.  When Leatherhead nodded, Don said, “On three.  One, two, _three_!”

            As soon as he said three, Leatherhead pressed the button on the explosive and saw the timer begin its countdown.  Racing to the door, he exited before Donatello, who paused to grab his duffel bag.

            Leatherhead waited for Donatello, who was running full tilt towards him, when he saw the turtle slide to a stop and look up.

            “Donatello, we must go!” Leatherhead called.

            “There’s someone on one of the ramps!” Don shouted.  “Hey, you up there!  Run!  It’s going to explode!”

            Dashing back into the silo, Leatherhead looked up to see a man standing on a ramp high overhead, staring down at them as though completely befuddled.  Anger tore through Leatherhead’s system at the man’s complete stupidity.  Throwing back his head, Leatherhead roared, the deep sound bouncing off of the silo walls.

            That got the man moving.  He dropped the tools he’d been holding and sprinted out of the silo.

            “Go, Donatello!  Run!” Leatherhead exclaimed, pushing the turtle towards the door.

            Keeping their heads down, the pair rushed out of the silo, moving as rapidly as they could.  There were only two thoughts in Leatherhead’s mind; run and keep Donatello safe.

            They’d barely reached the bend in the tunnel when twin blasts shook the entire area.  In less than a second an even louder explosion moved the very air around them, its shock wave throwing the pair to the ground.

            Debris from overhead began to rain down on them as the tunnel started to collapse.  Leatherhead jumped to his feet and immediately looked for Donatello, only to see that the turtle lay prone and unmoving beneath a pile of rubble.

            Panicked, Leatherhead yanked aside the slabs of concrete and twisted metal that held Donatello down.  “Donatello!” Leatherhead shouted, but Don’s eyes did not open.

            There was no time to check for injuries.  Leatherhead scooped the turtle into his arms, only slightly relieved at hearing him groan, and began to run as fast as he could.

            Making straight for their initial entry point, Leatherhead dodged falling debris as he moved, focused on saving the turtle that he loved.  They had dropped into the transport tunnel from a sewer access point and Leatherhead was glad to see that it was still open.

            Very carefully, Leatherhead pushed Donatello through the opening, setting him on the ground so that he could pull himself up as well.  Once inside the sewer system, Leatherhead again picked up Donatello and began to jog away from the Foot clan’s compound.

            Because Leatherhead knew the system of tunnels and underground railways extremely well, he made his way to one of the long abandoned subway stations that was nearby.  Unlike the station where Leatherhead had made his home, this one had been closed due to a partial collapse of the tunnel.

            The entry had been barricaded but the boards easily gave way when Leatherhead slammed his tail against them.  Entering the station, Leatherhead avoided the area that was buried beneath dirt and stone slabs and proceeded to the opposite end, where a small haberdashers shop had once operated.

            Much of it was in disarray, the glass cases broken and much of the shelved items scattered around the shop, but the walls had held.  Kicking aside the debris, Leatherhead cleared a spot on the floor and carefully set Donatello down.  To his relief, Donatello’s pulse was good and so was his breathing, but there was a large bruise on one side of his head and he did not wake as Leatherhead ministered to him.

            Determined to make Donatello comfortable, Leatherhead began to gather some of the cloth wares that had never been removed from the shop.  There were bolts of material as well as ready-made linens and bedding, and Leatherhead soon had a large, soft pile of fabrics upon which to lay his unconscious friend.

            Donatello’s duffel bag had been lost back in the transport tunnel and his headset broken, but his shell cell was still attached to his belt.  It began to crackle with static and Leatherhead knelt down next to the turtle so that he could retrieve the device.

            _“ . . . team two . . . Don . . . Donny? Come in . . . two . . . . are . . . all right?”_

            The shell cell seemed to have sustained no damage as Leatherhead examined it, so he assumed that there was some sort of signal interference inside the station.  Leonardo’s voice faded in and out, though the concerned tone was clear.

            Leatherhead started to respond and then hesitated.  As soon as his brothers knew where they were and that Donatello was injured, they would come for him.  This was the first opportunity that Leatherhead had ever had to be truly alone with the turtle.

            However, if he did not answer, the turtles and their friends would make a frantic search of the area around the transport tunnel.  They knew exactly where Donatello had chosen as his entry into the tunnel and would no doubt make that the starting point for their search.

            The signal interference meant that Donatello’s brothers might not be able to use its tracking device to locate them.  Even if it only meant a few hours completely alone with Donatello, Leatherhead decided he had to take the chance that had been presented to him.

            A flick of his thumb opened and activated the shell cell.  “Leonardo, we are safe.”

            _“Leatherhead . . . where . . . Donny?”_ Leo’s question was sharp and filled with worry.

            “He is with me,” Leatherhead responded.  “We are hiding from Karai’s ninjas.  They pursued us into the tunnels.  Donatello is securing our location so that we cannot be found.”

            Leatherhead wasn’t sure how much of that had gotten through so he waited.  A burst of static made him grimace.

            _“We’ll be . . . the lair,”_ Leo said. _“Return . . . it’s safe.”_

            Mentally filling in the missing words, Leatherhead sighed with relief.  It seemed that his small lie had rung true enough.

            To be on the safe side, Leatherhead turned the shell cell completely off.  He felt a twinge of guilt at having deceived his friends and hoped that they would forgive him upon learning of the falsehoods he’d told.

            Standing, Leatherhead looked around the shop to see what else was of use.  It was dark as pitch inside the subway station, but his eyes had adapted to the point where only the smallest amount of light enabled Leatherhead to see.  He needed more though in order to survey Donatello for wounds, so he was glad to find that two oil lamps had survived the station’s destruction because they had been attached to metal arms bolted to the walls.

            Taking them down, Leatherhead moved back over to Donatello and set the lamps on the floor to either side of the turtle’s makeshift bed.  Next he removed Donatello’s belt and looked inside the hidden pockets, finding a small box of matches sealed within a plastic bag.

            Using the matches, Leatherhead lit the lamps and then used their soft glow to examine Donatello’s body for injuries.  There were scrapes and bruises, but only one cut along Donatello’s thigh that warranted attention.  Since he had no water with which to bathe the injury, Leatherhead first made sure that no debris had entered the wound and then he bound it with a piece of cloth.

            Concerned that Donatello had not awakened, Leatherhead checked his pupils and was relieved to note that they dilated properly when exposed to light.  The bump to his head appeared to have been hard enough to put Donatello out for a while without causing further damage.

            Having done what he could, Leatherhead settled into a seated position on the bed next to Donatello.  It came to him then that his hands had been all over the turtle’s body and he flushed at that thought.  Leatherhead knew that Donatello would understand the necessity, but it still seemed somehow wrong to have touched without permission.

            Still, the chance to hold Donatello, to caress his skin, had been at the forefront of Leatherhead’s dreams for quite a while.  With a slightly shaking hand, Leatherhead laid his palm against Donatello’s cheek, relishing how perfectly they seemed to fit together.

            When Donatello sighed, Leatherhead quickly pulled his hand away.  There was no other sound, but the turtle’s forehead creased, as though he was uneasy.

            Leatherhead tentatively touched Donatello’s face again and saw the turtle’s brow clear immediately.  Spreading his hand, Leatherhead again cupped the enticing olive green cheek.

            Once more Donatello sighed, this time producing a whispered word.  “LH . . . .”

            Heart thrumming in his chest, Leatherhead removed his hand and climbed onto the bed until he was straddling Donatello and hovering over him.  Leatherhead carefully lifted the mask from Donatello’s face, seeing him without the purple strip of fabric for only the second time since they had known one another.

            Leatherhead’s eyes raked over Donatello’s face, memorizing every feature from only inches away.  He had never dreamed he’d have the opportunity to be so close to the turtle and Leatherhead wanted this moment to be indelibly etched into his memory.

            Haltingly, Leatherhead placed his hand upon Donatello’s chest.  By concentrating, he could feel Donatello’s heartbeat through his plastron.  Here was another thing that Leatherhead could commit to memory, the rhythmic beating like a song that played solely for the crocodile’s benefit.

            Turning his head, Leatherhead bent even lower so that one of his ear slits was close to Donatello’s mouth.  Each breath that he blew out warmed the side of Leatherhead’s face, the inhale and exhale another thing that Leatherhead would remember when he lay alone in his bed, pretending again to hear Donatello’s sleeping breath next to him.

            Taking his hand from Donatello’s chest, Leatherhead began to crawl downward, his eyes roaming over every inch of his skin and scutes.  Now he experienced no qualms as he approached the lower half of Donatello’s body and closely studied the turtle’s groin and tail. Using the tip of one finger, Leatherhead gingerly touched Donatello’s tail, astonished at how swiftly it reacted.

            Donatello’s tail tapped the bed twice before flattening against the bedding, leaving his anus completely exposed.  Leatherhead shivered, his body understanding the invitation even before his mind had processed what he was seeing.

            Taking a deep breath, Leatherhead again began to move downwards, determined to keep his baser instincts in check.  He both loved and respected Donatello, and though his current actions could not be considered completely appropriate, Leatherhead was resolute about not defiling the young turtle.

            Leatherhead moved on to Donatello’s thighs, calves, and feet.  In his mind was a mental image of Donatello’s form onto which he mapped every scar, every discoloration, and every mark he came upon.  Now when he fantasized about Donatello, the picture in his mind would be vividly accurate.

            Slowly, Leatherhead made a return sweep up Donatello’s body.  Though he told himself to keep moving, Leatherhead could not help himself and once more paused above Donatello’s groin, his eyes devouring what lay exposed by the flat tail.  With a huff, Leatherhead blew out his sexual frustration, only to freeze when his hot exhalation caused Donatello’s legs to spread.

            Swallowing thickly, Leatherhead took a shuddering breath as needful warmth pooled in his gut.  He heard Donatello sniff at the air, scenting Leatherhead’s pheromones even in his unconscious state.  As if in reaction to what he smelled, Donatello rocked back on his carapace, lifting his hips invitingly.

            Unable to help himself, Leatherhead lowered his snout in order to nose the area between Donatello’s legs.  There was a faint sound from the turtle, an odd chirp that Leatherhead had never heard before, and then Donatello moaned.

            Lifting his head quickly, Leatherhead looked up at Donatello and saw his head move.  Remaining completely still, the crocodile watched his friend carefully, recognizing that a light snort meant that Donatello was waking up.

            “L . . . Leatherhead?” Don asked groggily.

            Giving no thought to his own position, Leatherhead shot upwards so that he could look into Donatello’s face.  The turtle’s eyelids fluttered and then opened, his rich brown eyes focusing on Leatherhead’s.

            “Donatello, how do you feel?” Leatherhead asked.

            “Unsteady, achy.”  Don lifted his hand and gingerly touched the side of his head.  “What happened?  Where are we?”

            “The tunnel caved in while we were trying to escape,” Leatherhead told him.  “You were hit by falling debris.  I carried you to this abandoned subway station in order to examine your wounds and to evade Karai’s ninjas.”

            “My brothers . . . .” Don began.

            “They are all safe,” Leatherhead replied to the unasked question.  He decided to let the white lie about the ninjas stand.  “Your duffel bag was lost, but you still had your shell cell.  I told them we were safe, but I did not admit that you were injured.  I saw no point in their endangering themselves by searching for us when I knew that your injuries were slight.”

            “Thanks for that,” Don said.  Then he blushed, his eyes drifting along Leatherhead’s body as though just realizing their proximity.  “I . . . uh, had the oddest dream.”

            Leatherhead did not budge, too enthralled at having Donatello beneath him to willingly move without being asked to do so.  “What did you dream?”

            “That we . . . that the two of us . . . .” Donatello paused and bit his lip, eyeing Leatherhead shyly.

            His pulse quickening, Leatherhead suddenly felt bold enough to ask, “That we were together?”

            As though unable to speak, Donatello nodded his head.

            “Have you given some thought to that?” Leatherhead asked.

            Again Donatello nodded, but this time his hand came up to caress Leatherhead’s snout.  Closing his eyes, Leatherhead leaned into Donatello’s touch and whispered, “So have I.”

            “Maybe you could . . .  kiss me?” Don requested timidly.  “So that I know I’m not still dreaming?”

            Opening his eyes, Leatherhead allowed Don’s hand to guide him down until the front tip of his mouth touched Donatello’s lips.  Flicking his tongue along Donatello’s lower lip, Leatherhead waited for the turtle’s mouth to open and then with growing excitement, touched his tongue to Donatello’s.

            The odd sound that Donatello had made earlier was repeated, letting Leatherhead know that it signified the turtle’s arousal.  Panting heavily, Leatherhead lifted his head and stared into Donatello’s face.

            “I love you,” Leatherhead admitted.  “I have not been honest though.  I have allowed you to assist me with the Transmat, but I do not work on it at all when you are not with me.”

            “I know,” Don said, the corners of his mouth lifting.  “It isn’t hard to see.  You don’t want to leave anymore, do you?”

            “No, I wish to remain here with you,” Leatherhead said.  “Is that permitted?”

            “I’d like nothing better,” Don said.  “With the truth out in the open, we’ll have more opportunities to learn things about each other.”

            “And to be alone together?” Leatherhead asked hopefully.

            “Absolutely,” Don replied enthusiastically.  “For now though, could you help me get home?  I’d like to find out if we fully accomplished our mission.  After that, we need to tell the family that I’m going to be spending a lot more alone time with you.  At your home.”

End


End file.
